Nothing inspires my creativity and calms my soul like the smell of fresh ground coffee beans. The whir of the grinder, the click of the espresso machine, the slight pressure of looking studious and cool in public. I have long been a proponent of the coffee shop. Without internet at the house, Cafe Nomad is my second home.
From my favorite corner table, I sit on a refurbished church pew with mustard velvet seats. I sip my dirty chai and contemplate my day. I listen to the book club of retired men debating the book of the week, analyzing current events, and bemoaning the state of the local school system.
It’s from this seat that P and I got invited to our first local party (friends!), where I’ve met community leaders and even been offered a job. From this vantage point I’ve begun to learn the faces and names of the people who have built this town.
Above my seat is a huge photograph of a beat-up work glove. I love its simplicity, power, and enthusiastic work record shown through tears, dirt and wear. Over the past week it has inspired me to get to “work;” applying to volunteer for the local pet shelter, getting information about starting yoga teacher training, and volunteering to write grants for the community garden.
I’m not sure how any of these endeavors will turn out, but it feels good just to put myself out there. To try something new, to play with some fluffy animals, and to hopefully figure out more of how I can cobble together a “career” here.
Cafe Nomad has a pretty appropriate name, nomad coming from the Greek meaning: one who roams for pasture. I’m not sure a 21st century coffee shop is what they had in mind, but it feels like an open, fertile plain to me.
“Not all those who wander are lost.” ~J.R.R. Tolkein